“You need the Squirrel!”, this is the advice Big Sexy had for me. For the last ten minutes we having been playing pool and chatting about the progress of the food van, as I go through the list of things needed its becoming apparent in my mind that I’m falling further and further behind, losing direction and this stop start approach isn’t getting me anywhere fast. The mental side of it is sparking, idea after idea after idea. Each day some time goes into taking the business further, the van is being registered, insurance sorted (after a fairly abrupt letter from Mr DVLA, turns out he is a very persuasive man), public liability insurance in the pocket, these are the things needed for a food van to trade in a safe and professional way. Do you know what else you need ? A food van that’s ready to fucking trade!!!. The more we chat shit the more I realise I’ve been a fucking idiot. Maybe my mind got carried away with optimistic possibilities, maybe I started to believe my own bullshit but long and short of it was I was falling behind and that’s on me. I felt left at the bottom of the proverbial mountain looking up into the clouds.
With the business kind of moving forward like a drunken person staggering home, direction was needed. As the Mrs snoozed next to me in bed my mind was racing of what was needed and when I could do it. As I type this I’m not much closer but at least I now know I’m walking in the right area code. First things first, clear out the old equipment I’m not going to use, this consisted of gas pipes that where no longer connected to anything, a tea urn that’s gas powered and falling to bits underneath, that also has a hot water supply pipe that’s attached to a mini boiler. While stripping it I’m thinking why not have a look at the gas powered bain marie. This is why I needed “the squirrel”.
“ACTION CURES FEAR”
David J Schwartz
The squirrel is a wonderful chap, someone I care deeply for and was my work wife for more than five years. We have been through the tough times of work together and have a fantastic comradery. Being a few years older that me the squirrel has a wealth of life knowledge and experiences to draw from. Why is he called the Squirrel?, I hear you ask, because he can not keep his attention on anything for long and like a dog spotting a squirrel his mind can be drawn to a new dilemma mid task or to be perfectly truthful mid sentence sometimes. What the squirrel lacks in powers of attention he more than makes up for in being fearless when it comes to DIY (kind of guy who is bored at home so will think “I’ll knock down that wall”). With more toys and gadgets than a Soho sex shop his barn is filled with power tools, gadgets and gizmos galore. Further more he is good at it. After a quick message back and forth he says bring it down to the ranch.
Take it down to the ranch, well that requires driving Tallulah (the van), this is something I have neglected to do for far too long. Partly because of the size of her ass but also because driving her home originally has mentally scared me (see previous blog). Now this is silly, childish and completely illogical, I mean if my dream is to own a food van I need to drive it. So after having a cup of man the fuck up the only logical thing to do is to ride that fat ass as much as possible until the fear subsides. As I walked to the van I was telling myself take it easy, plenty of room to manouvere, nice and easy does it dude. Strapped in I turn the key and its dead, a big part of me was ready to say “oh well I tried” and head back in but NO, this is the dream, primed, try again. The poor girl spluttered into life, like an old chain smoker waking up. Macualay Culkins voice came into my head “this is it, don’t get scared now” (fucking love home alone) and we are off, in the driving position of a bus driver and the bounce to match, get some diesel and its off to the ranch.
I would like to say I enjoyed the drive there, but my pants would be ablaze, the bends of little villages whilst wondering how much I was annoying other drivers was ever distracting. All the time focusing more than my hippy life likes. The radio was off, I could hear every bump and clang from the engine and having no idea why those noises existed, but praying it was just because its been sat a while. (some going for an atheist). As I slowly turned the big girl into ranch there was a sigh of relief. I had got the girl there, no dramas and that felt good.
Squirrel jumps straight in the back and surveys the situation, he asks me questions, talking to me about types of nuts and bolts that have used before coming back to the van with a plethora of power tools, tool boxes and extension leads. The next couple of hours are like a scene from an A-Team montage, sparks flying, metal being bent, me hauling away all of the scrap metal. As the goats and alpacas watched on as it was getting stripped, Squirrels sabbatical is proving to be a wonderous thing and his new found energy has him dissecting the van like a blur. He also finds new issues…….
As we survey our efforts (75/25% squirrel) over a cup of tea, bag still in, fucking philistine. Squirrel is looking some what pondering. “I think there custom built double griddles, they’ll come apart.”. I have a look but can’t see what he is on about these things seem welded in place. There is no give as I tried to move them, I had been hoping they would as cleaning between them was seemingly impossible but for all most straining it was to no avail. As I take a sip of tea my lips are getting tea bagged more times than a passed out student, then in the corner of my eye Squirrel is veering towards the griddles, hammer and chisel in hand and then it happened. It came loose, then the next one came loose and as we chiselled away the carbon the extent of my next job became apparent. 15 YEARS OF CARBONISED GREASE, and mould, and gunk and black stuff. It was FUCKING DISGUSTING. I can confidently say its the worst thing I’ve had to clean in my chef career, bar grease traps, and IT’S FUCKING MINE!!!. The humiliation and deep internal disgust as we slid over the grills was horrible. In the Jon Favreau film “chef” there is a scene in which the main character is cleaning out an old beat up van, and opens a drawer to see an old hotel pan covered in mould to his disgust whilst trying not to be sick. knowing he needs the equipment he cleans it up and makes it work. Now replace the word pan for double fucking griddles covered in carbonised grease and you’ll understand. If I ever meet the previous owner, as who I brought it from was just a charlatan, I will go and find my bluntest knife, scrap that, spoon and have a game of operation on him. This guy was a fucking cowboy! the lack of love shown towards Tallulah is staggering and that people can operate in such a way is sickening. But like a neglected dog on those NSPCA adverts with love we are getting her back. So after the clean down of clean downs I emerged like a scene from Shawshank redemption, head to toe in shit but that girl was given a good clean. Today after the Mrs got me this amazing Mrs Hinch recommended pink cleaning stuff she is gleaming. The griddles look like useable griddles, the back splash, tables, stainless steel are sparkling and we get closer to righting the wrongs of cowboys long past. The type who brought shit, fatty, greasy burgers and banged them out at festivals. Their day has gone and the day of food with love is now.
Squirrel then hooked up the power to the main source and after five seconds it popped the isolator so something is loose or blowing it. That being said it worked to the board and the isolator works so positives there.
After saying my goodbyes to the Squirrel, I realised that having a mentor to call upon so easily that I should be very grateful and that I am getting great opportunities to learn constantly during this experience. Due to the time of day I did pussy out of driving the way I came and went along the county roads and I actually enjoyed it. Maybe the sense of accomplishment, maybe momentum, maybe it was taking a small step forward, whatever it was I drove back with a smile on my face.
Since then I have made contact with an Indian street food company who are smashing it and doing really good food, they have helped with options for power. So now I get to learn about leisure batteries (sounds like a vibrator to me). Electrician is booked for next week, carpenter is custom making shelves and a mechanic is going to come have a quick once over to make sure nothing is falling off or about to explode. the van not me!
Am I at the top of the mountain yet? ……. no where close, but I think I can see the top, and a path to it. Yes, I may need to deviate but I think I can even see a few paths. Even a Sherpa or two along the way.
happy eating
FOOD ANARCHY 